


Ledge

by saizoswifey



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Feral!Dimitri, Fingering, First Time, Jealousy, Pining, Post-Timeskip, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saizoswifey/pseuds/saizoswifey
Summary: Dimitri’s jealousy and tense grapple with his feelings towards Byleth come to a head. This is feral ass Dimitri post-timeskip being jealous and confused and possessive of Byleth."No. He didn’t want to see her face. Her eyes and words dripping with understanding, or worse—pity. The very sight of her served as a reminder of how much he had changed. How lost he had become; perhaps never to be found. And worst of all, he was afraid of what he would do to her if he faced her."
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, dimileth - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 247





	Ledge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyanspade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanspade/gifts).



> This is a birthday gift for my dear friend Cyanspade (A03) / @flatsuke (on Tumblr). I hope delivering some Feral Dima goods can bring her a fraction of the happiness she has brought me with her friendship :3

He cared not that it was raining. The pungent smell of soil had somehow taken on an acridity to him now; only serving to remind him of the years he wandered alone, early morning sun beating down where he lay on the warm earth, the whispers from his mind begging it to reclaim him and complete the damned circle.

Another sleepless night, but at least the cloak of darkness offered him some form of respite from the waking nightmare. _Her_. Everywhere he went, she _was_. The ghost of her smile from all those years ago haunted him to this day, even when he close his eyes.

Part of him hated her. No— _no_ , he could never hate her. Not truly. Jealous. He was jealous of her. How she seemed unfazed by the last few years. Preserved and untouched by the brutal, gripping hands of time. Still delicate and brilliant and mysterious; intricate as stained glass.

Whereas he…

Dimitri’s hands wrung themselves. Time had captured him in its unforgiving jowls. Left him bitter. Gnarled and ugly. Slicing him with its jagged teeth before it spat him out like the poisonous thing he is. His soul was not one for consumption.

Had he known what was to become of him, he might have asked her to dance all those years ago. Unburdened by the fear of appearing with all the grace of a newborn colt, the swinish steps or the sweat brought to his palms by the reality of their distance—or lack thereof. And how the way she smelled would surely linger even in his dreams for weeks to come. He would have asked her to dance…

His way had been the cowards’ way, back then. But, he supposed, perhaps that much hadn’t changed. If he could muster a laugh, it would be self-deprecating. Even now he felt unworthy of her touch, more so than ever before. He had no right to ask anything of her. He could barely stand the sight of his own soiled hands.

And yet, the sickening weight in his stomach and the tenseness in his jaw when he saw her whispering with a smirking Sylvain…or the way he clenched fists until his knuckles turned white when he spied her going over maps a little too closely with anyone else, suggested that as much as he like to deny it, he wanted her for himself. Even if just to bring him a remnant glimmer of the man he used to be.

Perhaps that’s what fueled his angry display earlier that afternoon, when he caught her sparring with Felix in the training grounds.

Felix behind her, hands on her hips to square her stance. His face close to hers, lips that could just as easily kiss her speaking instructions. The way his touch lingered on her sculpted arms as they swung her sword and cut the air thick with tension. 

Both of them sweating, parrying each other much to Felix’s clear delight. How he could stand there drowning in his own torment whilst the two of them were seemingly lost in their own private world…as if they had not known hardship and loss…his blood was boiling by the time they even noticed he was there.

Felix jut his chin in Dimitri’s direction, scoffing between labored pants and haughtily swiping his gloved fingers through his damp hair. “Gotten yourself another craving for blood, have you, _boar_?” Felix spat, condescending.

Dimitri didn’t reply to the clear challenge, only gripped the training sword so tightly he was sure it might snap under the pressure. He didn’t wait for Felix to ready himself, either. His sword swung down so fiercely it whistled in the air, vibrating his bones the minute Felix countered.

“ _You_ —“ Felix grit. He had no time to question between the onslaught of blows from Dimitri. 

Crack—crack, _Crack_. Felix met him at every turn, albeit with only fractions of a second saving his skin. Unable to rebuttal the full power, all he could do was displace the momentum of the swings, his feet digging into the loose soil at every step to keep himself from staggering.

Dimitri could see it so clearly now. How he had changed. Felix was an excellent swordsman, but his technique was a little too perfect. Too technical. Too tight. Time had made Dimitri an opportunist, even if the trade-off meant he was less than noble in order to best. He found an opening, the wooden hilt like a hammer driving into Felix’s ribs, whilst Dimitri’s elbow made contact with his jaw, sending Felix flying back and into the dirt.

“Dimitri…”

Byleth’s voice calling his name finally came into his consciousness. The sound reeked of disappointment. Had she been speaking the entire time? He had almost forgotten where he was. The training sword fell from his hand with a plunk and it’s echo seemed the loudest sound he’d ever heard.

Felix spat blood, wiping his weeping lip with his sleeved arm, piercing eyes seemingly looking straight through Dimitri. “So…he shows his true self once more. Welcome back, vile beast. Glad to see your fighting style is brutish as ever.”

Dimitri’s heart raced, hands shaking at his sides. But what scared him was the fact that they shook not out of fear or repentance for what he’d just done, but out of anger, and the withheld desire to go further still. He watched Byleth extend her hand to Felix before he ran from the place without a word.

He walked until it began to rain. He walked until it became dark, and then he walked some more. He wasn’t sure where he had been, but somehow his feet brought him back to the cathedral.

His muddy steps reverberated in the empty space until he reached the heart of the room where he stood and closed his eyes, palms open and unable to discern between drops of rain falling from his mangled hair and the tears he’s sure were there.

In between the stifling silence and the cascading drips of water on marble came that voice again. His name. “ _Dimitri_.” Quietly spoken behind him. How had he not heard her approach?

“…Dimitri,” she said again.

“Leave me,” he warned.

No. He didn’t want to see her face. Her eyes and words dripping with understanding, or worse— _pity_. The very sight of her served as a reminder of how much he had changed. How lost he had become; perhaps never to be found. And worst of all, he was afraid of what he would do to her if he faced her.

“I’m not leaving you.” She repeated like a prayer, each time softer than the last, desperate to drill the message into his heart like a wedge into a block of ice.

Slowly, she coaxed him toward her, and much to his relief he saw not pity nor understanding in her eyes. Nothing, save for a blank expression, waiting—reading him. She was soaking wet, too. Had she been out looking for him all this time?

Their breathing synced in the silence. Her cold wet fingers reached for the clasp at his chest, unlatching buckles that sent his heavy, rain-sodden cloak to the marble floor. The sudden weight off of his shoulders cathartic. Then she reached to his face. Dimitri felt the pleasant sharpness of her nails against his forehead as she swept his dripping bangs to the side tenderly. Cold like ice.

He gripped her wrist in his large hand right as she pulled away from his face. She must have known what he was feeling. Must have seen the heat in his stare, or sensed the danger palpable in the air between them. He gave her a moment to run from him, then. Please, _please_ run, he begged with every shred of restraint he had left. But she sucked in a sharp breath, took a step closer instead, and Dimitri pulled her into him by the wrist and kissed her deeply.

He had never kissed anyone before. He wasn’t even sure he had been doing it properly until she moaned against his lips, and he felt her melt a bit in his arms. That sound…and the feeling of her relaxing into him, had his sanity and self-control blurring a blinding white.

He moved with purpose unknown to himself. He was removed, entirely, from his desires. Hands he surely knew as his own were tearing and yanking at clothing before he had a chance to think his actions through. And she was pawing at him, in return.

He had touched all the places he had only dreamed of, before. Her soft breasts and pert nipples he invited into his mouth. Her thighs; the thighs of a mercenary, thick and strong and lovely. And between them, a heavenly warmth he knew he may be undeserving of, what with his thick, calloused fingers that had been tainted by the blood of those he’d slaughtered, but he plunged inside of anyway.

She let out an adorable, sexy sigh. Pleading for him to continue. “Ahh, yes…”

Clinging to his broad shoulders she let him work her until her legs began to give. And when he withdrew his hand and placed the fingers in his mouth. He had never cursed himself so vehemently for his inability to taste.

Lifting her until she straddled his hips, he lowered her onto his cock with little regard for anything but the determination to feel himself inside of her. The moment he was fully sheathed, a boyish whimper rippled from his throat, followed by a desperate growl.

With feverish rapidity he bounced her up and down on his cock, guiding her hips and elating in the way he forced a moan from her lungs with every rough slam. Their skin, still slick from rain and now slicker still with sweat, sticking together in all the places they melded.

This was better than he had ever fantasized, even all those years ago as he tossed in his dorm, dancing between the state of sleep and wakefulness, visualizing her glowing celestial in the doorway or in his bed, slender fingers slipping into bedclothes. She was real. Here— _now_. Accepting him inside of her despite everything he was. Clinging to him and meeting the thrusts just as urgently as he.

He slammed her back against a wall of rubble, using that leverage to fuck her as hard as he could, as deeply as he could go. Pushing everything he was and felt, every emotion and sorrow, inside of her. Tiny pebbles tumbling down among tufts of dust but neither caring. She didn’t wince or flinch, not for a moment. Of course, she didn’t…she was the strongest person he’d ever known. How had he not seen it before? She could take anything he had to give, perhaps she was the only one.

He kissed her again as his hips quickened pace, driving them both to The Divine. Each heated dive inside of her echoed an Amen in the catacombs of his mind. He had never felt a oneness akin to this. Not even shedding blood with a comrade on the battlefield. He wanted to own her, to keep her this close for all time he had left. But he knew that wasn’t possible, so instead, he settled for spilling himself inside of her.

Dimitri felt sharp teeth close around his bottom lip as he twirled his cock to feel her every inch, but he didn’t care if she made him bleed. He was committing her to memory. He had left her with His Warmth. A fraction of the warmth she had so kindly bestowed upon him in the time they’ve known each other. But a warmth, nonetheless. And though he knew he had done nothing to deserve it, perhaps by some grace of the Goddess he’d be given time enough to continue his repayment.


End file.
